


Sleepytimes

by scarletastraia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:35:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9066088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletastraia/pseuds/scarletastraia
Summary: Yuuri can't sleep and his mind wanders. Fluffly one-shot (I say this to disguise the fact that all my works have no plot)





	

Yuuri thinks Viktor is stunning.

It’s not just the brilliantly silvery, eye-catching mane of hair that sways gently, side to side, whenever Viktor moves the slightest bit; as beautiful as it was, left long and free during Viktor’s youth, Yuuri thinks he likes it more now. Short hair makes it far easier to shampoo thoroughly, to drench with water, and to massage Viktor’s scalp after dinner. He likes the feeling of combing his fingers through Viktor’s hair (even if he does still blush a little – _it’s a pretty weird thing to like to do,_ he thinks – even while doing it). What he likes even more is sniffing his fingers once he’s done – there’s always a comforting, familiar smell leftover on his wrinkly fingers, and it pleases him, somehow, to keep that scent with him.

It’s not his eyes either; Yuuri has heard all sorts of descriptions of them in those skating magazines he used to collect ( _queueing hours and hours just for the limited editions that came with posters_ , he fondly recalls) ranging from electric blue to lapis lazuli. Yuuri himself isn’t sure he could ever accurately place the colour, even after spending all this time with Viktor. One moment they’re the shade of pigeon eggs – those are the times where Viktor’s voice is tinged with a flirtatious lilt and the CharmTM is turned on full blast. Other days, one can practically get a cold just by looking in his eyes, so much like the blizzards in his home country (but here’s a secret everyone knows: just send Yuuri over and even the coldest winter will morph into spring.)

Yuuri doesn’t know what exactly it is, actually, even after countless years of admiration from afar (Phichit says it’s called _fanboying_ but no way Yuuri’s admitting that); maybe it’s something in the way he lifts off the ice, weightlessly. Slivers of ice emerging at the edge of his blades, like flowers; they don’t tell a story of impact, Yuuri thinks, but rather magical contact. As silly as it sounds (especially with him being a figure skater himself), Yuuri still cannot help himself from thinking it magical; gentle notes of music meeting with solid, unmovable ice, and joining them both, the rhythm of skates caressing the ice, pushing off in light feathery strokes and rapid, intense pounding. On the ice, Viktor looks the same – same eyes, same hair, same Viktor – but there is something different about him, and Yuuri thinks him most attractive while on the ice.

The answer could be so many things: the way Viktor pronounces Yuuri, drawing out the _Yuu_ lightly, each syllable dancing off the tip of his tongue. Yuuri hears this all the time, but each time the sound reaches his ears, his heart involuntarily beats to the same pace, as if Viktor’s voice and his heart were instruments in harmony.

But in the end, it doesn’t matter – Yuuri thinks sleepily to himself. It’s enough – more than enough – that right now, he’s far happier than he could’ve ever imagined, snuggling up to a human-sized warmer that just happens to have silvery hair (another thing he couldn’t have imagined: the way he radiates heat; he makes for a great winter teddy bear). And if the person sleeping next to him happens to have an adorable nose that twitches in his sleep, much like Makkachin, or happens to be a world-renowned figure skater, then it’s an added bonus. 


End file.
